The aerial acrobats fly high or slip blithely through a lofty hoop. The Chinese-pole climber plunges headfirst toward near-certain doom, catching himself a nose-breadth from the ground. But the most suspenseful feat in Cirque du Soleil's "Amaluna," the one that has an entire big-top crowd holding its breath, is the artistry of a woman balancing palm frond sheaths to create an ever-larger, more intricately precarious mobile sculpture.

Sumptuously designed and invigoratingly female-powered, Friday's "Amaluna" opening brought something different in a Cirque show. As crafted by director Diane Paulus - whose vibrant "Porgy and Bess" revival opened two nights earlier at the Golden Gate - it's less precious and more story-based than many Cirque offerings. It's also a welcome showcase for female artists. But not entirely a success.

The story - loosely based on Shakespeare's "The Tempest," mashed-up with some "Romeo and Juliet" and various mythologies - provides a clever frame for many acts and a bit of depth for those in the know, but not a satisfactory dramatic structure. The circus acts are gracefully entertaining but only occasionally impressive, and the featured clowns are tediously unfunny.

On the other hand, the well-toned bodies look terrific in Mérédith Caron's bright, tight, fancifully goddess- and animal-evoking costumes. The grunge- and folk-rock score by the Canadian duo Bob & Bill provides, for the most part, potent support as performed by a versatile sextet and wailed by Jenifer Aubry and ringmaster Julie McInnnes, the story's Prospera.

Highlights run from the charmingly deft opening Chinese acrobatic balancing troupe and the undulating limbs of Amy McClendon's Peacock Dance to the astonishingly balletic contortions of Iulia Mykhailova - the tale's young maiden Miranda - and dancerly grace of Evgeny Kurkin (her Romeo) as he slips up and plummets down that Chinese pole.

Neither the beautiful Amazons on the uneven bars nor the gleefully aerial Valkyries manage to bring each of the two acts to a satisfying close. But Viktor Kee's Caliban figure stops slinking about, fondling his huge crocodilian tail, to execute some terrific light-fingered juggling. And when the brilliant Lara Jacobs Rigolo starts picking up ever-larger bare fronds with one foot and adding them to her intricately balanced sculpture - as it dwarfs her, and keeps growing - "Amaluna" soars.